The Client
by LaciePanda
Summary: It had been a few months since I last contacted the Consulting Criminal, last I heard from him he told me to 'stay available'... My schedule was mysteriously cleared for the next month and all my own clients were gone spontaneously...today was the day. Pre-Reichenbach Falls/One-Shot/POV one of Moriarty's clients/Mentions of James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran.


**_The Client_**

* * *

Location: Stuttgart, Germany

Time: 13:27

Date: January 2, 2012

I paced around in my sky-level suite, it was the most expensive and luxurious one in Germany, I made sure of it. It had been a few months since I last contacted the Consulting Criminal, last I heard from him he told me to 'stay available'. The red carpet is staying to wear out from where I had been pacing, today was the day.

My schedule was mysteriously cleared for the next month and all my own clients were gone spontaneously. I took a sip from my red wine, I usual only drank when I was anxious, today I was beyond anxious; I was panicked. Moriarty only ever communicated through texts, and even through those digitized words, he could make a whole army start shaking in their boots.

As I straighten my shirt I look out over the city, it was screaming with noise. The noise of the world was like music to my ears, cars rushing about flying by the world without a care, people talking on the phones not even worrying about what other people might hear, and the sounds of money being handed over as a trade is made; green pieces of papers for the item another desires.

But these sounds were not welcomed into my suite and were halted by the glass on my windows and length of building; stretching so high above the noises of life. The only noise in my suite was the sound of my pacing.

The worse part of it all was the waiting.

Moriarty knew how to play me, he knew I liked action; tracking people, making arranges for people to disappear. I liked to travel, to go to meeting, doing the 'leg work'. Moriarty knew how restless I could be, how worked up I could get. I could imagine him smirking behind a desk as the minutes ticked on and my anxiety grew.

Behind a desk, on a beach, or hell even behind a prison cell, nobody knew which one was where Moriarty resided.

They say there is one man who knows where the Consulting Criminal lives. He is a sniper, probably the finest that ever lived. He works solely for Moriarty; he's been offered millions of dollars, the most beautiful women in all their lands, even pieces of lands in the lushest countries and islands that not even billionaires could afford without going bankrupt. But he only does what his boss orders.

His name I do not know, only few do. But that is not what bothers me, but rather his loyalty. What has Moriarty done for this man to give his life to be used by Moriarty alone? Did he save his life and this man feels he owns it Moriarty? Or is Moriarty holding his loved ones captive and promises them protection as long as his orders are fulfilled? Or is there another relationship going on? Secret lovers perhaps, mixing business with pleasure?

Who knows, perhaps no one.

I take another sip of my wine, the waiting, I'm always waiting and it is driving me mad! I curl my lip and stake over towards my phone, it is lying on my bed. I pick it up and look at it with fury in my eyes. This pathetic device is the reason for my madness! I raise my arm and gather up my strength, ready to throw it.

Just as I am ready about to release the energy I have built up in my arm; the phone rings.

It plays a ridicules tune Moriarty requested so I know it's him.

He requires this of all his clients.

The tune, _Staying Alive_ by Bee Gee, plays out until I bring my arm back down and press a button on the phone unlocking it. I quickly look at the message; it could be one of many things. All the possibilities run through my head, it is a message telling me I have only so long and that Moriarty has finally grown bored of me? Does he finally want me to return him a favor after helping me? Is it a threat? Or perhaps it is massage that shall lure me to trap where he will torture me until I break and am only fit for a metal hospital and 24 hour sedation.

I open the message, a shark-like smile creeps it way onto my face. It is a challenge, I am sure this message has not only been sent to me but to all who have asked Moriarty for his help.

**Message received: Jan 02, 13:33**

**From: Jim**

**Last one to Sherlock is a sissy -JM**

_~Fine~_


End file.
